


Slow Ride

by My_Black_Crimson_Rose6



Series: Of Sex, Ink, and Skateboards [10]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Porn, Body Worship, Couch Sex, Dildos, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Rough Kissing, Sex Toys, Slow Sex, Slow kisses, Table Sex, Tattoos, Teasing, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 07:55:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4214019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Black_Crimson_Rose6/pseuds/My_Black_Crimson_Rose6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vergil grinned all pointed teeth as he turned from the camera and to the blond, “where have you been hiding that?” And Wash shifted, rotating his hips until it brushed against his prostate—his lashes flutter and a soft moan fell from his lips. “Fuck,” his irises blew and he surged down to cover Washington’s mouth with his. “Look at you, look at how fucking gorgeous you are.” His kisses steal Wash’s breath away, not even a hint of any tongue or teeth—just a harsh press of lips.<br/>“Watch me,” he panted pulling away from the kiss, “I want you to watch me ride this while thinking of you.” Vergil groans, top lip pulling up to bare his teeth before he bit, tugging and working and pulling at Washington bottom lip. “Show them pictures of what they’re missing?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow Ride

**Author's Note:**

> I just really wanted to write smut. Hush.

It’s been awhile since he was last on camera; the other three taking the roles of fucking on camera while Wash’s face healed. They had told the watchers that he had gotten into a fight at a party; some dude thought that his face was too pretty and his girl had been eying him too long—it’s happened before, it made for an easy excuse and it didn’t bother Wash. Easier to go with that route than the actual one.

He grinned at the camera, running a hand through his blond hair and down his healed face and down his deck. He laughed at one of names, “just me today,” he replied to his webcam and monitor. Today wasn’t going to be anything showy. Wasn’t going to be about anything more than getting himself off in front of everyone; “V is on his way home from work and the other two are still in class for another hour.” He rotated his hips out of frame, loving the feel of that canary yellow cock buried deep within him—how they haven’t found his bright yellow cock and vibrator stashed away in his weekend bag, Wash’ll never know.

He didn’t want to tell these people that those two weren’t _actually_ in class, didn’t want them making the jokes of _group projects_. No, there wasn’t anything sexy about the group project that Locus was doing (a lab that was a huge part of his final grade) or the group assignment that Felix had been trying to escape from but Wash had _encouraged_ the other into making an honest effort for his group mates. For their sake, Wash really hopes that he encouraged him enough to spur in the effort.

He bit at the corner of his lip and whimpered, eyes fluttering closed just as he finished reading a new line of text coming in. “Yeah, yeah I’m fucking myself right now. You’ll see in a bit—don’t you want to see my faces? Some of you have been asking about me for _weeks_ ,” he moaned tossing his head back and gripping the table with both hands.

 _No hands, no hands Wash—draw it out, tease yourself_. He wanted Vergil to walk in on him, wanted to have him watch him fuck himself in the middle of their dining room. He rolled his hips, searching for that one spot that made it all the better—he should avoid it really, should draw this all out.

Glancing back towards the lines of text, to the image of his own face—cheeks flushed, eyes half lidded.

He grinned, “Yeah? Mmmm, can’t say. Gonna draw this out.” He smiled, nibbling at the corner of his lip. Hips rolling and sliding—up, down and repeating with that bright yellow cock buried deep within his ass, as he read over the conversations on screen. He hummed, ha’d and nodded at the next question that he read. “Yeah, I guess you’ve earned a look.”

He stood, pulling off the dildo and adjusting the chair back until he could see from tip to base when he angled the laptop monitor/camera down. He liked it more when they couldn’t see his face, when he didn’t have to worry afterwards if he had dumb sex faces—although the three of them all swore that he didn’t. They’re biased, their opinions don’t _count_.

Wash slowly sank back down on the cock, watching himself in the glared screen as his cock twitched—leaking, a pearl of pre-cum dribbling from the slit. He moaned, rolling his hips as he sank. Breath puffing, “shit— _shit_ , ah,” he bit at his lip again and brought one hand down to clench the base of his prick. 

He sank down fully, rising and falling on the bright yellow rubber cock—the door slammed shut and Washington groaned. Moaning out and quickly flicking his wrist, sliding his hand up and quickly down his shaft. His eyes fell shut, head back as he continued to slowly fuck himself on the artificial cock—he bit and pulled at the corner of his lips.

 _Come on, come on Verg—come looking for me_.

“Fucking hell—you doing a show?” He didn’t even remove his boots before stomping over, around the table where Wash stilled. That bright yellow dildo buried deep within him and he couldn’t help but grin up at him when Vergil pushed the monitor up to get a look of the commenters—on Wash’s flustered face and his own with a lone grease mark swiped over his cheek.

Vergil grinned all pointed teeth as he turned from the camera and to the blond, “where have you been hiding that?” And Wash shifted, rotating his hips until it brushed against his prostate—his lashes flutter and a soft moan fell from his lips. “Fuck,” his irises blew and he surged down to cover Washington’s mouth with his. “Look at _you_ , look at how fucking _gorgeous_ you are.” His kisses steal Wash’s breath away, not even a hint of any tongue or teeth—just a harsh press of lips.

“Watch me,” he panted pulling away from the kiss, “I want you to watch me ride this while thinking of you.” Vergil groans, top lip pulling up to bare his teeth before he bit, tugging and working and _pulling_ at Washington bottom lip. “Show them pictures of what they’re missing?”

And Vergil _laughs_ at that; brushing a hand through Wash’s hair and tilting it back to expose his neck as he swallowed thickly. “Tease—horrible, _fucking terrible_. Shit, I’d hate to be them in the middle of those classes.” All Washington could do was laugh, laugh breathlessly as the man stepped away to find the perfect spot to watch.

He stood by the entrance to the kitchen, leaning on the archway leading to the next room and fished his phone out to start sending the other two their teasers. Wash slowly rolled his hips, small little circles—drawing the man’s attention when he hissed, lifting his hips and sinking back down on the dildo. Alternating between thrusting up into his palm and down onto the yellow toy, Wash clenched his eyes shut and tossed his head back.

“Shit,” he licked at his lips, biting and working the flesh between his teeth. “V—shit, I take it back. Touch me, please. Please please—please, V.” He could feel the pleasure building even though he didn’t want to chase it, didn’t want to follow it down to the end _just yet_.

“Up,” Vergil commanded, guiding him up off the dildo and onto shaky feet. They kissed—a press of lips together as Wash fell into his arm, wrapping his own around the man’s neck and holding on for everything he was worth. Wash moaned at the feeling of the man’s tongue licking past his teeth, pressing against his tongue and sliding. He moaned again when the man lifted him, setting him on the table—he groaned when Vergil broke away and unstuck the dildo from the chair.

He gave the dildo a slight wiggle, gesturing to the computer behind Wash that only got a fantastic view of his ass. Wash’s eyes narrowed, piecing together the silent question that he was throwing at him—was he suggesting that he rides it on the table? If so he was more than willing to do that.

He slid from the table and into the man’s chest as he caged him in, kissing him again and again—Wash could taste the meal he ate at lunch still lingering, could taste the swing of an energy drink he must have drank on the way back home. He pressed himself flush against the taller man, leaning back when he moved forwards—moaning when he was lifted back up.

“I’ll help you ride it, the camera’s just on your ass,” he liked it when they’d tell him what people would be looking at, if his face was in view or not. He loved the kisses—loved his boyfriends _watching him_ when no one else could. He loved being able to see their eyes soften when they’d look at him and when he could feel his do so in return.

“Help me cum,” like a breath, hot and heavy against Vergil’s lips as he eased the blond back on the dildo. Spreading those two freckled ass cheeks apart for everyone to see the cock sink into him, adjusting his hold to keep both the cheeks apart and help ease him back up—it was awkward the first two strokes before both of them fell into a rhythm of Wash rocking with his legs wrapped around the man’s waist and his hands pressing against shoulder and chest to use as leverage.

Vergil’s nostrils flared, watching the feed with his chin hooked over the Washington’s shoulder. His moans and whimpers deafening in his ear; he could feel the twitches—hear the hitches in his breath. “I’m gonna cum all over your work shirt,” he warned and Vergil _didn’t care_ about a dumb shirt.

“Fuck the shirt, love. Cum babe, come on—let go, I’ve got you,” he whispered, didn’t want the perverts listening to hear. Didn’t want them hearing just how much they meant to each other. “I’m here.” He dragged the hand he had had fisted in Vergil’s shirt down, down over his chest, pulling at the buckle of his belt until it slipped—sliding out of the hoops. Vergil sunk him back down and he unraveled—breath catching and back arching up, up and back—he was whining, coming in squirts onto Vergil black shirt.

They were back to kissing—kissing through his daze, through his high and pleasure. Through being taken back into Vergil’s arms and carried away, away from the camera and the people—away to the couch where they’d kiss and kiss and _kiss_. “Love how you kiss me,” Wash whispered as Vergil pulled away, as he pet his hair and placed a kiss to his cheek.

He took his hand, kissing each individual knuckle. “Let me go pull the plug and I’ll come back to worship you—kiss every single part of you, we’ll _make love_ on this fucking couch.” Wash whimpered at the promise, hand falling when their intertwined fingers separated—he watched as he turned the corner, listened in when Vergil bid the watchers good-bye (promising more next Thursday).

He came back with the lube and a bared chest, **REDEMPTION** and the shark jaw greeting him. Vergil sank to the couch cushion beside him, head falling back against the cushions with eyes fallen shut. He had deep, dark bag under his eyes—even his fluffy black hair looked like it was _tired_. “Did you work out before work this morning?” Washington questioned, throwing his leg over the man’s lap and pulled himself into it.

He pulled him in for a kiss, biting—nipping and sucking at his lips before surging back in with tongue. They kissed and kissed—kissed again and again, moaning and groaning into each other’s mouths. Gripping and pulling at hair, limps—at lips and tongue. “Ride me,” and Wash nodded, nodded with vigor leaning up and into him as Vergil pushed pants and boxers to his knees and slicked himself up with the lube he brought over. “Slow,” he continued, easing the other man back down into his lap—onto his cock, shining with lube and pre-cum.

“Fill me up,” David moaned, curling in on himself as Vergil held him—held him as he sank down. He was thicker than his toy; thick and hot and _heavy_. Their foreheads pressed together, David’s fingers curling in the black hair of his nape. Every time he’d open his eyes all he’d see is Vergil’s chocolate coloured eyes, the pupils blown wide with lust. “Fill me up,” he licked his lips, the tip of his tongue ghosting over Vergil’s bruising ones—he’s open them, allowing David to flick his tongue in and hook against the back of his teeth and tickle the roof of his mouth.

It was his and Felix’s thing—it tickled, felt weird—weird but _good_. It was always fun kissing those two, always in for something new even with their typical bag of tricks they used. Their kissing style remained _playful_ but the types of playful would always change. It was a challenge, an adventure to see if their new tricks could sweep his feet out from underneath him before he could get them to submit—David always did, liking to be pampered. He liked to be taken care of, to be loved and lavished. Felix just got bored up top, got _lazy_.

You’d assume that he was _submissive_ ; Felix was anything _but_ submissive even when he was getting fucked. He’d go until he had enough, he’d let you call the shots until it went against what he wanted—he had a line drawn in the sand and while he didn’t act like it, it was a _solid_ line. You don’t toe it like he does yours. He was demanding, he wanted to be pampered and lavished with praise and touches—with physical pleasures.

Its why pairing him with Wash was always so enjoyable for Locus and he to watch, to listen to as well—they’d talk and bitch, flirt and tease with every breath and touch. The two of them tag-teaming anyone hasn’t come up, not yet—but both he and Locus are more than willing to throw the other under that ‘bus’ to get out of _that_ sandwich. No thanks; they’d stick to the Washington sandwiches.

“I’d breed you if I could,” he was never much of a talker during sex, never really saw the need to fill the space with words when moans and whimpers, pants and keens could do what words couldn’t. He didn’t understand it, would much rather bite and suck marks onto his partner’s skin then talk—he didn’t understand it until he started sleeping with Felix, and _really_ got it when he started sleeping with Washington. “Fill you up,” he grinned when David’s eyes snapped open and he shiver, clenching down around his dick sliding up and out, then back up into him again.

It was a _game_ to both Locus and he—shut them up by ways of fucking. Felix talked, self proclaimed King of Dirty Talking only to be out staged when David would start that constant tract of his going. He’d talk and talk and talk—what he likes about you, how it feels, how much he loved certain aspects about you. They didn’t even need to be _dirty_ , just the context made it so. He was being quiet today; the whimpers and moans, all subdued as he kept trying to hold eye contact with him. His cheeks, chest and neck colouring and heated to the touch as Vergil cupped his jaw and brought their lips together again.

“Why so quiet?” he held David’s face between his hands as the man continued to ride him, so slow. David’s hands slid up his chest, over his tattoos, and to his neck. “Love,” Vergil pressed a kiss to his cheek, pulling him in all the closer.

“I need more—need you on top. Just... just keep kissing me,” and he did. He pressed their lips together and greeted David’s tongue with his as he went about shifting their positions. The blond’s legs holding their lower halves together as they shifted—until David was pressed against the couch and his arms wrapped around Vergil’s neck.

Vergil took hold of that freckled leg, hooking it up over his arm—quickly sliding it up to his shoulder before pushing even further into the body beneath his. “Like this? Slip you open and cum so deep in you you’d have troubles cleaning it out for _days_ —weeks even.” And all David could do was nod, nod and moan and pull him in for another kiss.

He kept it slow, kept it horribly slow even though the blond beneath him babbled—urging him to go faster, pleading with him to stop _drawing it out_. Yet both he and Vergil made no move to up the speed. Too busy with the kissing; the slide of tongues and swap of spit. Too busy with talking; David was babbling, words jumbled between pleas and praise that Vergil would return with something of his own.

He was trembling again, breaking away from the kisses to pull Vergil in—in deeper, in closer. Rubbing his over sensitive cock up against the man above him and attempting to relieve the build-up pleasurable pressure building. “Please. Please please—just fuck me, fuck me hard—cum, I want you to cum in me. I want to feel it— _fuck_ , please. I need to cum, please let me—just,” he was falling, head tossed back and eyes clenched shut as Vergil continued that slow, _slow_ grind—the rock, the trust.

“Then cum,” it was beautiful. Watching him _fall apart_ , watch how slowly David Washington broke piece by piece in his arms under the pleasure. Watching that how those two words made him react—body tensing and muscles clamping down around him. Vergil groaned, collapsing into the blond’s arms and thrusting into his spasming body until he did exactly as he promised.

He came with a gasp and David holding onto him with legs and arms, fingers brushing through his hair.

He was wrecked, the _both_ of them were. Neither wishing to move, to separate—didn’t want to clean up their mess. “We should take a shower,” Washington sighed and Vergil could only grunt. His fingers tickling up that freckled and tattooed covered ribs of his in their afterglow. “Or a bath?”

Vergil hummed at that thought. “Later. Just... let me hold you for a bit. The other two have been hogging you,” he could sleep like this, with his head tucked into Washington’s shoulder and balls _fucking_ deep in his ass. He pressed a kiss to the man’s neck—pressed another, then another, and then finally sucking a mark to the pale flesh.

“Another minute and then you’re carrying me to the bath.”


End file.
